You Win Some, Some You Really Lose
by sweetdetection
Summary: Immediately follows the events of "An Evening With Mr. Yang." Excerpt: “Gus, please, don’t be a diabetic aardvark,” I said. “You can’t get arrested for lying. Besides, this could be a case.” “Or it could be you getting arrested,” Gus insisted.
1. Part One

**NOTES: **This is yet another version of the events that take place immediately following "An Evening With Mr. Yang," the season three finale. It is a two-parter since it was getting much, much longer than I'd anticipated. I haven't seen much of season three yet ( thank God for DVDs ), but I did see the finale and this is what came of it. I have absolutely no experience writing Psych fanfiction, so I hope it's bearable. Enjoy and please leave feedback!

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You Win Some, Some You Really Lose

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Part One

_You're an idiot, Shawn. Just say it. You're an idiot._

"You're an idiot." There, I'd said it. I had said out loud, which meant that Gus and Abigail were staring at me and obviously trying to decipher which one of them I was calling an idiot. I ignored them, which I knew was hardly polite, but I just couldn't help it. My attention span had never been what you might call lengthy, and Juliet had completely distracted me from what could have otherwise been a very delightful evening. I never would have allowed Gus to tag along if the date hadn't already being completely ruined, but I knew better than to let _Abigail_ think that. Distracted or not, I maintained a certain amount of pride -- and dad had always drilled me about the proper way to treat a lady.

I winced as I saw the look on Jules' face again in my mind's eye. I was good at torturing myself, better at hiding it, but something of my thoughts must have crossed my face because Gus was giving me that look in the rearview mirror. I knew that look. I shifted my gaze to Abigail and smiled, and it was a fairly decent representation of my real smile. I said, too-brightly, "Want me to read your palm?"

And she said, "Again?" and sounded genuinely confused, and I tried to remember reading her palm the first time.

And I shut my mouth, for a moment -- a brief, terribly scary moment the likes of which I hope never to experience again -- I was out of ideas. Out of clever things to say. Hell, out of _ridiculous _things to say, and that look Gus had went from disapprovingly curious to worried.

"No, right. That would be silly of me." I laughed, and I might have fooled her but I hadn't fooled Gus, or me, and I was really starting to panic. I was grasping at straws, I was searching for air, I was dying of thirst in the Sahara, I was--

"Late! I'm late," I said. It burst out of me without any prior planning, which is how most things burst out of me, admittedly, but this was a delicate situation, and I knew I'd have to reign in my tongue before I talked myself into a real problem.

Abigail furrowed her brow. Gus said, "Late for what, Shawn? What could you possibly be late for? It's almost eight-o-clock."

I stared at Gus, shocked by his disloyalty, shocked by the ease with which he completely, totally sold me out to Abigail. And I mentally flailed again.

"Dad. I'm late for pops, dear old dad." Gus was looking at me like I'd grown a third nipple on my forehead, and I looked at my date. "He's not well. He's getting a bit forgetful in his old age and I, neglectful scoundrel that I am, I forgot to…uh, give him his bath. He used to have a nurse but she quit after he stuck his--"

Gus hit the back of my chair and interrupted my explanation of my father's mental failings. I shot him a glance and he said, sternly, "_Shawn._"

"But he looked fine to me when I saw him earlier," Abigail said, and I nodded, striving to look sad. Forlorn. Depressed. Anything but desperate to get out of the car and out of this date.

_But you finally scored!_

I sighed. _Scored. Sure. But it doesn't feel like it. Not after seeing Jules so embarrassed…even hurt. _Dear God. I may have hurt Jules. Could I be more dastardly? More unworthy?

I realized that I hadn't answered Abigail and gave my head a little shake, trying to get back into the game.

"Some days he's better than others," I confided to her, and I reached out and touched her hand. "Abby, I'm sorry. Really. But I should go." I was rushing the words and Gus was making frantic 'knock-it-off' gestures in the back seat. "Can you forgive me?"

"Well…if your dad needs you," she said, sounding doubtful. I hesitated -- I knew what getting out of the car meant -- but in the end I knew I had to do it. I had to pass Gus the concessions, open the door, and…well, that's where it all fell apart. I didn't know what to do after that. Well, stand. Walk. But other than those things, I had no plan. No direction. Still, I was committed. I would see where the wind took me. I would be guided by chance.

It all sounded wonderfully romantic.

"Thank you, Abby. Really." I gave her hand a squeeze, and leaned over to kiss her cheek, and I knew it would probably be the last time my lips touched her skin. _I should be sad about that._ I leaned back and heard rather than saw Gus gesture even harder. I didn't look at him, thinking maybe if I did I'd lose my nerve, and I got out of the car.

The night air smacked me in the face, cold for Santa Barbara. I took a step. Then another. After that it was easy to keep walking. But I hadn't made it very far before Gus caught up. He drew me around the corner of the ticket office and made sure we were out of sight of his Echo. Then he socked me in the arm.

"Ow," I said, not because it hurt but because it seemed obligatory. I deserved it, but I wasn't about to say so. "_What?"_

"Shawn, what do you think you're doing? This is the girl you've been dying to date since, since…"

"Forever. Yeah, I know. So?"

"_So?_ Shawn, you just lied to get out of the rest of your date."

I gave him my patented _Really, Gus?_ look. "First of all, it wasn't really a date because _you_ were in the back seat, hardly what I'd call romantic, and secondly I…couldn'tdoit." The last bit was rushed. Gus looked incredulous.

"I've seen you close the deal with a ton of girls, Shawn. That's a lie."

"That's a little disturbing." I frowned. "When you say close the deal, do you mean--"

He socked me again.

"Ow!" This time it did hurt. A little. I would never admit to it out loud, however. "Gus, was that really necessary?"

"What's going on with you, Shawn?"

It's amazing how he can sound exactly the way he did when we were ten and he was chastising me for playing hooky from PE.

I said, "Nothing's going on with me. I just had to get out of there. It's not right. It's not the way I pictured it being. And…"

Gus hadn't been expecting an answer along those lines, and curiosity piqued, he said, "And…?"

"And I ran into Jules while I was procuring the popcorn." I said it more to my feet than my friend, but I could sense him going very still.

"Juliet was here?" His voice betrayed the fact that he had some idea of how serious the situation was. And how much I hated, truly loathed, serious situations.

"She asked me out, Gus. On a proper date." I risked a glance, and he was staring at me, his earlier confusion melting away as the words sank in.

"You turned her down."

"What was I supposed to do?!" I burst, feeling defensive, which always makes me a little angry. I let my voice raise a little, mostly because I was scared about being defensive and angry when it came to the subject of Juliet O'Hara. I shoved that thought away. "I'm already on a date, what was I supposed to tell her? I mean, I _was_ on a date, and now--"

And now. I really wasn't getting very far with this planning the rest of the evening bit.

"Are you…going to talk to her?" Gus asked, unfazed by my temper. He'd been its victim too often to be ruffled by it much.

"Should I?" I asked, desperate, and hated myself a little for it. I tried again. "No. Not…not right now. I need to think about it first. There's a process, you know, my mind goes through a very specific process when I--"

Gus put his hands on my shoulders. "I know." Then he frowned. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

I realized after a moment that he was referring to Abigail, and I grinned at him. "Why, Gus, don't tell me you've forgotten how to behave on a date."

"Shawn!"

"Lemme give you some advice then. It's good, write this down. First, treat her like a person. Then a princess, then a Greek Goddess, then a--"

"I don't need any dating advice, Shawn." He was glaring at me, and this was a good sign. I smiled back at him, innocent as the day I was born, and he continued, "And I don't need your castoff dates, either."

"You might as well make the best of it, buddy," I told him, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm so proud. My friend Gus is about to become a man. Can he get a round of applause? Come on, everybody, let's give him a round of applause!" I was clapping and smiling, every inch the ecstatic best friend, and I wished there _was _an audience because that had been pretty good. Gus didn't look nearly as amused as me, and that made me smile wider.

"What am I supposed to tell her?"

I shrugged. "You had a sudden and inescapable craving for SnoCaps?" I suggested.

"They don't have SnoCaps here, Shawn."

I passed him my half-eaten box of candy. "Just go with it." And then I was walking again, quickly this time, and I heard Gus call my name but I didn't stop. I knew he'd give up, and if I had glanced back I probably would have seen him walking back toward his Echo. But I didn't glance back. Instead, I walked and walked and _walked_, mostly forward_._ And when I thought my feet were going to fall off, I retrieved my motorcycle and gunned it up and down the streets of Santa Barbara until the streetlights started to blur.

I couldn't face my apartment and I would risk running into Gus at the Psych office, so I collapsed on my dad's couch, exhausted, and had dreams about all the girls I'd been with recently. They were all upset -- angry or crying or some snot-heavy combination of the two -- and wanting to hurt me, and I woke up early. Very early. I was gone before dad even woke up and discovered I was there.

Before I knew what my intentions were, I was at the bakery near the police station. And I was buying a cupcake. The biggest cupcake they had. I asked if they would put a frosting "J" on it and they did. I asked if they had any sparklers I could put on the top and they said no. I asked them if they could frost a perp in handcuffs on it and they asked me to leave, and I found myself trotting down the street to the station feeling oddly resigned to my fate.

But she wasn't there. I didn't know what to do with that. I stood in front of her desk with the cupcake in my hand and I stared at her empty chair, and for the second time in as many days I had no idea what to do. It was an uncomfortable phenomenon and it was going to have to stop. Somehow.

"Spencer!"

I twisted around and there was the head detective, and he looked more sour than normal, which was to say past lemony and on to unripe limes.

"Lassie face," I replied, but without pluck. Without enthusiasm. I had to talk to Jules. I had to fix this. It was really getting scary.

Lassiter gave me a strange look. "Are you feeling alright, Spencer?"

I ignored the question. "Where's Jules?"

He crossed his arms and looked sour again. He said, gruffly, "She called out sick."

My stomach dropped. I think I actually saw stars for a moment. "She…what?"

"You heard me." He was trying to sound pissed, but I knew better. Carlton Lassiter was worried, which was not an emotion he handled well. We were alike in that. I ferreted that bit of information away to exploit at a later time. At the moment, I was much too concerned with the fact that Jules had called out sick.

_Because of me?_ It hardly seemed likely. But then again…

My fingers touched my cheek where she'd kissed it. I had to remind myself not to squeeze the cupcake beyond recognition.

"See ya, Lassie," I said, and he gawked after me. It made me feel a little better, or at least a little more normal, but as soon as I was outside I was lost again. Me. Lost.

I got a pineapple smoothie on my way. I had been by Juliet's place before so I knew where to go, but as I got closer I began to feel…well…nervous.

_Other people get nervous_, I reminded myself. _You never get nervous. You don't even like butterflies._

But there was no help for it. I was nervous. I picked up flowers, too, just for good measure, and juggling this precious cargo, I turned onto her street and marched up to her door and gave it a mighty knock. Or would have. If I had managed to maintain my _cajones._ But I was nervous for the first time in my life, and my palms were sweating, and I gave the door a small and wimpy knock and waited, hoping she hadn't heard it at all. That she wouldn't answer the door. That maybe she was sick and I could go home knowing I'd tried.

She opened the door. She opened the door in pajamas, with bare feet and her hair like some wild, blond tropical rainforest piled on top of her head, and she had a bit of chocolate smeared on the fingers of her right hand, and her nose was red. I took that all in quickly, hardly noticing that I'd noticed. I couldn't breathe and that was becoming increasingly obvious to my lungs, but breathing just didn't seem to matter much when it was so clear that she'd been crying. Her eyes were still red and puffy. I had done that to her, and so I didn't deserve to breathe.

I thrust out my gift-laden arms before she could ask why I was there, and I had smeared the cupcake frosting a little but not bad. The smoothie was melting but still delicious as only pineapple smoothies could be, but the flowers made her sneeze. Startled, I pulled them back a little -- perhaps they had not been a good idea. But when was buying flowers for a lady a _bad_ idea?

_When she's allergic to whatever these are. _Right. I'd have to plan better next time. Not that I planned on ever making her cry again.

"Jules," I said, just as she said, "Shawn," and we both stopped speaking. We stared at each other and my heart was trying to hammer out of the cage that was my ribs, and it hurt in that distracted sort of way that let me know this was real and not some horribly long and protracted dream in which I really _was_ a complete jerk.

"You're not sick," I said, and she stiffened. I had meant to go with something a little more elaborate, something that would impress her with my powers of observation and deduction, something Sherlock Holmes worthy. But I was still really slow. I had been since she'd asked me to dinner the night before.

"Shawn--" she started again. I shifted all the gifts into the crook of one arm and touched her hand with the other. It was probably not one of my more genius moves, but she didn't resist.

"Jules," I said, and took a breath, and sealed my fate, for better or worse. "Jules, I'm not psychic."

I'm sure she had been expecting a hundred million thousand other things to come out of my mouth, most of them some variation of, "I'm so sorry please forgive me, how 'bout a hug and some pineapple smoothie?" But I knew in my _bones_ that if I didn't tell her everything now, I'd lose my only shot at being with her. Maybe I already had. And the only thing that really mattered to me, the only thing I'd ever wanted to see all the way through, was being with this beautiful, smart, and at times fierce detective.

There was a long silence which let me contemplate my fears of being with one person ( besides Gus ) in any sort of relationship for any protracted amount of time, and I suspected it had something to do with the destruction of my parents' marriage, and that was about as deeply as I wanted to psycho-analyze it. But Jules…Jules made me want stuff I had no business wanting, not when I was lying to the world and better, _getting away with it._ I had a good thing going here, a job I liked and was good at. Kept me on my toes. But I had just ruined it, just ruined three years of work and carefully maintained fallacies, for this girl.

_You might as well say you're an idiot again._ But I kept my mouth shut this time. And I waited. I waited and waited, and when three seconds had passed like eons and I was starting to feel squirmy, Juliet finally caught up with me.

"What do you mean, you're not psychic?"

"See, here's the thing. The thing is…" I had explained my hyper-observational skills before, and well, but I wasn't able to find the words…not with Juliet staring at me like I'd just personally betrayed her. Maybe I had. "This is the thing. I don't have psychic episodes, I don't sense things, and spirits don't speak to me."

She continued to stare. I stumbled through an explanation of my father's thorough, almost torturous training, the years of developing my observational skills and my reasoning processes to the point where, had I any sort of discipline to speak of, I might have been the perfect detective.

She never said a word.

When the words finally stopped pouring out of me, we stood there on some terrible precipice. I could almost literally hear the wind howling. What I could not do was read her expression, and this was more distressing than it had any right being. I really was squirming now, and hoping, and dreading. My central nervous system was so confused I think it might have preferred being tazered to waiting for Juliet to say something.

But she didn't. And there wasn't anything left for me to say either, which didn't normally stop me from trying, but I didn't have any cards left to play. No tricks up my sleeve. No charming anticdotes to distract her with. I was just me, standing at her door, exposed. It wasn't much to offer her. The cupcake was now beyond hope and the smoothie was more of a sludge-ie and the flowers had only made her sneeze.

Finally, slowly, Juliet closed the door. I would remember that she never took her eyes off me the whole time the door was swinging shut, which seemed to take an eternity. I would remember how expressionless she was, except for in her eyes, where there was still hurt.

But at that precise moment I wasn't remembering any of it. I was just there, with my flowers and my cupcake and my sludge/smoothie. I stood there for a long time. And then I set the gifts on the ground and I left.

There just didn't seem to be anything else to do. Except for break it to Gus that Psych was done, that I'd discredited us and we were probably going to be run out of Santa Barbara by Buzz McNabb and a squad of police cars. I didn't even want to think about what the Chief might do. Or say. Or, with what was certain to be a fair amount of pain, both.

And then, of course, there would be the showdown with my father.

But all of that was to come later. For now, I went to the beach and sat in the sand, and I stared at the waves and realized I was too depressed to even drink a fresh pineapple smoothie, and I didn't think about the future. I just thought of Juliet. It was the worst afternoon of my life.

_Go ahead. One more time since it's still true. Say it._

"You're an idiot," I muttered, and buried my shoes in the sand, and wished I could bury my heart right next to them.


	2. Part Two

**NOTES: **A big thank you goes out to _AnimalLover32HaHa, fornwalt _and _nancyandedforever _for their reviews of the first part. This is the second and final part of the story, I hope you enjoy the end. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts about the ending, as it was a difficult but fun part to write. Thank you!

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Part Two

I was sandy.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting on the beach, but it had been for a while, and now there was sand all over me. I batted at it, and brushed at it, and shook out the fabric, and eventually started thrashing, and yet the sand remained. My efforts to un-sand ( de-sand? ) myself were getting more and more vigorous ( my inner Gus was horrified at the spectacle I was making ), but I managed to stop and flirt with a couple of girls in bikinis walking by. But my heart wasn't in it, and they only looked at me and kept walking.

"Oh God," I said out loud to anyone that might be within earshot. "You mean I can't even _flirt_ with other women?"

I mean, let's be honest, I'd been trying to encourage Juliet's interest for three years. She'd always turned me down and usually by the time she was done telling me no I was already hitting on the next pretty girl wandering past. But not this time. Now on top of the guilt, my whole mojo seemed to be off. Those girls had definitely not been amused or impressed. And I was always both amusing and impressive!

My phone rang and I put a pause on my mental anguish. A glance revealed it was Chief Vick. I was immediately unsure of how to handle this situation, but after a moment I decided to pretend like nothing was wrong and see how that panned out.

"Chief, I sensed it was you," I said as soon as I'd answered. The chief snorted.

"Isn't that what caller ID is for, Mr. Spencer?" she asked.

"That's a very good point, Chief, and I'm glad you mentioned it because I actually played a part in _developing_ caller ID. You see, my cousin was being stalked by this crazy girl in prison, and--"

"Mr. Spencer. Please. Spare me."

I clamped my mouth shut. _Does she know? Did Juliet already tell her?_

"I'd like to see you down at the station. How soon can you be here?"

Well, that didn't tell me _anything._ She didn't sound terribly upset, but she was a formidable woman, and she played her cards close to her chest. It was impossible to tell how much she knew, or didn't know, over the phone. I considered my options, the alternatives, and a couple of non-options just for kicks.

"Give me twenty minutes," I said, the considering part over. She agreed and we hung up, and I stared at my cell. Then I doubled my pace up the beach toward the Psych office, where Gus would be waiting to lecture me while he gave me a ride to the station.

- - -

"_Shawn!_"

Well, some things never change. I smiled at Gus as if he wasn't completely, totally angry with me. "How was the date, buddy?"

"First of all, that was not a date. Second, she was totally heartbroken that you left. I spent the next two hours trying to calm her down while she used my shirt as a tissue. And it was a silk shirt, Shawn."

"Gus, please, it was a silk-mix at best. She really cried?"

"Like a teething baby," Gus replied, his hands on his hips.

"Hm. Didn't seem like the type," I mused, although I had felt that twinge of guilt again when he'd told me she had been upset. I was really starting to hate guilt. Stupid emotion, really. "We have bigger fish to fry, Gus. The chief called and I'm sensing we may have a case."

"Oh no, Shawn, I am _not _letting you change the subject. What happened after you left? You owe me that much after you dumped Abigail on me."

Now how to play this one? I was criminally bad at pulling a fast one on Gus, he'd simply known me too long. So, with as much seriousness as I could muster throughout the whole of my body, I looked him in the eye, and I told him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

And Gus just stared at me. And then, glaring at me the whole time, he gathered up his suit jacket and his keys, and he walked out of the door to the office.

"Gus!" I shouted. "_Gus!_" And then I ran after him. I caught him just as he was unlocking the car door.

"Shawn, I have never ever thought this was a good idea, not since I found out you put my name on the lease--"

"That was a little underhanded," I agreed.

"--But I stuck around anyway. I stuck around when you knocked down walls in the office, and when you ditched me at that bachelorette party and they covered me in whip cream, and when you left me alone in that asylum, and when we found that mummy in the van and you went running like a little girl--"

"I was getting something to wrap it in. Those things are very delicate, Gus."

"The point is, Shawn, that against my better judgment, I went along with this farce."

"Farce. Good word. A-plus for using it in a sentence."

"_Shawn."_

"Sorry." I made a 'zipping my lips' motion across my mouth and gestured for him to pray, continue.

"And after all of that, after almost losing my real job because of all of that, you go and blow it. To a detective." Gus stared at me. "I'm done, Shawn, I'm really done. You're not taking me down with you on this one. I'm going to go back to my office -- my _real_ office -- and sit down at my desk, and do my work."

Well, he was upset. And not without good reason. I really had screwed it all up. But I knew he was all talk. Gus wouldn't leave me, we'd been friends for too long.

"You're right," I said, and I was serious. "You're right about all of that, and I'm sorry. I wasn't going to leave last night, I didn't want to do that to Abigail again, but I just…I had really upset Jules. And then went I went to her place this morning, to apologize and see if I could fix it…" I had to stop for a breath. "I knew that if I didn't tell her the truth that, that…that she might…" I was getting into all that touchy-feely serious stuff and it was unfamiliar territory. But so much had happened over the past 48 hours…if I couldn't be vulnerable with my friend now, well, when could I be?

"I want a chance with her, Gus. A real chance. Which means she had to know the truth."

Gus was cracking. I could see it. He was still angry, but the look in his eyes had changed. My sincerity was softening the blow a little, I could tell, and after a long moment he took a breath and nodded. Then he got in the car. It was the first good thing to happen all day, and I smiled as I jogged around the other side and climbed in.

"Alright, Magic Head, let's go see what the chief wants," I said, buckling my seat belt with what could only be optimism. Not a lot, but enough.

"I wasn't kidding, Shawn, I'm going to my office. I don't want to be there when the chief arrests you for lying."

"Gus, _please_, don't be a diabetic aardvark," I said. "You can't get arrested for lying. Besides, this could be a case."

"Or it could be you getting arrested," Gus insisted, and he had a point. That was the other distinct possibility.

"Guess we'll find out when we get there. Come on, Gus, she's waiting!"

- - -

It had been a case.

A lame one, but still. A case. Which meant that Juliet hadn't told yet. And that was a surprising but very welcome turn of events. As I came out of Chief's office, I looked around for her. And then there she was, coming back to her desk with a steaming mug of coffee. She looked tired, but she was in a clean suit and her hair was pulled back neatly and she had a stack of paperwork on her desk that she was actually working on. My brave girl, doing her best to keep her game face on. I felt that familiar tide of affection for her, only it was stronger now.

I handed Gus the file. "It was the third cousin, who in an interesting twist is also the sister-in-law," I said, and then I left him trying to puzzle out that fun family tree while I approached Jules.

"Jules."

She looked up and a lot of emotion flickered across her face, and I was reminded suddenly that she carried a gun and perhaps I needed to tread lightly here.

"What are you doing here, Shawn?"

"Chief called. We have a case." I paused and let my cheerful smile fade. "You didn't tell her," I said, and there was more than a little gratitude in my voice.

Juliet broke my gaze and began sweeping files into her desk drawer. I noticed that gun she carried was dismantled next to a stopwatch, and I recognized it as her old stress reliever. She really was taking this hard.

"Why didn't you tell her, Jules?" I was trying to be gentle, and I wanted to touch her, but I kept my hands to myself.

"I wanted to," Jules said at last. "But…we need you. Whatever you do, it works."

Ah. It was professional, then. I tried not to be disappointed but my heart ached knowing that she'd been protecting the department's arrest record and not me.

"I see," I said. She looked up at me again, and I met her gaze for just a moment before my eyes dropped to my shoe tops.

"I have work to do," she said, and I started to walk away. And then I stopped and turned back to her.

"No." I stood firm, arms crossed over my chest.

She blinked. "No?"

"No. Come outside." I didn't wait for a 'no.' I took her arm and she came along, not wanting to make a scene in the middle of the station, although she was obviously uncomfortable. Well, I was uncomfortable too, but I _always_ made scenes in the middle of the station. And we were going to do this my way.

We got outside and I said, "Ow, my corneas," because the sun really was much too bright. Juliet, unimpressed, stared at me with her hands on her hips. She looked just about ready to stomp back inside, but I pretty confident that she wouldn't leave. She wanted to know what I had to say, I didn't have to be psychic to know that. Of course, it would have been handy at the moment. But I digress.

"What do you want, Shawn?"

"Last night…well, there's no use cushioning the blow. It really was bad timing. And you took the whole thing well. Too well. I mean, so well that I thought maybe I'd just imagined that you'd asked me out. Except for that kiss. Do you have any idea what that kiss did to me?"

"It was a kiss on the cheek, Shawn," she said, although she was clearly surprised by the emotion in my words, if not the theatrics.

"Yeah. It was only the best and worst kiss on the cheek that I've ever had. And then I was standing there and you were walking away and I almost followed you. I mean, I was so close. But there was Abigail. And I'd already ditched her once. So I went back, and Gus ruined the whole thing by being in the backseat but it didn't matter because you'd _already_ ruined it by asking me the one thing I've been dying for you to ask me for three years."

I paused for breath. Juliet was struggling to form a response.

"And you know what? Even though I was trying to do the right thing by her, I left anyway. Because the right thing by her was the wrong thing by you and I couldn't handle that. So I made some lame excuse about giving my dad a sponge bath--"

"What?"

"Besides the point and also made up. Come on, Jules. Keep up." I shook my head and refocused. "I got out of the car and I walked away. But I figured it was too late to see you, or that you wouldn't want to see me, and anyway I had a big decision to make. I mean gray whale huge. I mean iceberg that sunk the Titanic giant."

"And what was that?"

"I had to decide if I was going to tell you the truth. About being psychic. Working with the police…doing this thing I've been doing. It's been awesome. I know I act like it's all a big joke and sometimes it is, but I also really enjoy it. It's fulfilling and it means something, even when I act like it doesn't. And I knew that if I told you, well, that was the end of that. But it doesn't matter. Because if I didn't tell you than I'd lose you. I mean, either way I was probably going to lose you. But on the off-chance that I have a shot, I don't want there to be any secrets."

I was out of breath. And out of explanation. I mean, I'd done a terrible job. It was botched and rushed and messy and I still had a million things to add, but it wouldn't have mattered. I took a step closer to her, keeping my eyes locked on hers the whole time.

"Tell me, Jules. Do I still have a shot?"

Gus burst out of the door before she could answer.

"Shawn, the third cousin couldn't possibly have done it, she's a meth addict!"

I turned to him, completely exasperated. "Now, Gus? You really want to do this right now?"

Gus looked from me to Jules and back again, and he lowered the file and looked, dare I say, a little sheepish.

"Besides, of _course_ the third cousin did it. Dude, everyone knew she was on meth. Clearly, she also sold it. She was supplying our vic and when she stopped, he threatened to go to the police. Ironic? Anyway. She got mad and killed him, then in one of her few moments of lucidity, took the body to a hotel room and staged his suicide. Badly. Any other questions?"

"You got that all from the statements?" Gus asked. Honestly. I don't know why he bothered. He'd seen me solve a case in five minutes flat before. It seemed somehow disloyal that he still questioned my abilities.

"And the crime scene photos," I told him.

Gus glared at me and then decided the show was over. He said, "I'm very sorry," to Juliet and then he retreated inside. Finally. Jeez.

I turned to her. She was looking at me and her expression was slightly shocked. Really? What was with the rampant disbelief? I'd done this sort of thing a million times before over the past three years. Why all the staring and the questions and the surprise?

"I don't know if it's less impressive now that I know the truth, or more so," she said.

"More so?" I suggested, and she gave me a look. But I was hopeful. At least she was still speaking to me.

"Shawn…I…" She stopped and I stepped forward, invading her space. We were close, breathing the same air close, and I took her hands and looked down at her and I didn't have to try to be gentle or honest or serious. She was important and I wanted to treat her that way.

"Jules, I know that you push guys away. I know that you're holding out for someone better." She opened her mouth, and I smiled a little and squeezed her hands. "It's okay, I get it. All I'm saying is that I am better. I don't take life too seriously, Jules. I actively try not to. But there's one thing I do take seriously, and it's you. No matter what happens, I'm going to be there. Probably with jokes and definitely with bells on."

She rolled her eyes, just a little, and I smiled wider. "At least you know it will always be fun."

"Shawn," she started, and I could hear the doubt in her voice, the fear of hoping for too much. But I wasn't going to let her down.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jules. Just ask Gus, he can't get rid of me." I bent my knees a little, to be at eye level with her. "Please. Let me show you how serious I am about this. And how much you mean to me."

Juliet looked at me, her eyes wide and beautiful and just as scared as I felt, and I brought her hands to my lips and kissed them both gently.

"Okay," she said. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"She said yes, everybody!" I cried, jubilant.

"Shawn," she said, looking around. "We're behind the police station. There's no one else here."

"Jules, I was speaking to the spirits," I told her, and winked. She just laughed and shook her head, and her smile was so bright and relieved. I couldn't blame her, I was feeling ready to walk on water. Or fly. Or teleport. They all sounded pretty cool.

"Let's just…go back inside," she said, still smiling as she led me back toward the station.

"Sure," I agreed. "There's just one more thing."

"What's that?" she asked, stopping just shy of the door. I positively beamed at her, and took the four or five steps closer to close the gap between us, and then I slid one arm around her waist and the other hand into her hair, and I kissed her. I put everything I had into that kiss, and I didn't let go until I was sure she felt just how much joy she'd given me.

And she kissed me back the same way.

"Alright," I said, when we'd pulled away slightly and I could breathe again. "We can go inside now."

Jules laughed and I smiled again, and after another stolen kiss -- this one much quicker, sadly -- we joined Gus and Lassiter inside. They already had another case waiting. And I had plenty of fresh material in the form of Lassie's tie.

Oh yeah. Got my girl, kept my job, and my father hadn't called demanding I come pick something up. Life was looking up.


End file.
